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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943019">Snapshots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_jukebox/pseuds/moonlight_jukebox'>moonlight_jukebox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gen, Mentions of addiction, Unhappy Ending, literally just angst, mentions of drug use</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:16:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_jukebox/pseuds/moonlight_jukebox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader reflects on the important moments in their relationship with Spencer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Snapshots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is sad. There isn’t a happy ending. I won’t be writing a follow up that gives it a happy ending. If you want to skip this one, I completely understand, doves. I just had to get this feeling out, so I channelled it through this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spencer had once told me that our memories couldn't be perfect. He had said that it was virtually impossible for the average person to be able to have perfect recall of an event. His explanation made it seem like our mind took snapshots of the important moments, and our brains just filled in the gaps with something that fit the logical progression of events, even if that's not exactly what happened.</p>
<p>Of course, he was the exception to that rule. Spencer was always the exception.</p>
<p>I guess it only makes sense that I don’t remember everything that happened. I couldn’t be sure of every step I had taken that brought me to this point.</p>
<p>I just had snapshots of the moments that changed everything.</p>
<p>We had been dating for a few months when he had given me the key to his apartment. “<em>I like having you here,</em>” he had said. “<em>This feels more like home when you’re here.</em>”</p>
<p>Spencer had called me right when his team boarded the plane letting me know when he'd be home. I could tell by his voice that it was a hard one for him. The events that triggered the beginning of the end started because I wanted to do something nice for the man I loved.</p>
<p>But they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.</p>
<p>Anyone that knew him could tell you Spencer had a massive sweet tooth. He put gallons of sugar in his coffee and I could always taste some hint of confectionary sugar on his lips whenever I kissed him. What was lesser known was that he was particularly fond of homemade treats. He had told me once that it meant so much to him that I cared enough to actually <em>make </em>him something.</p>
<p>I can’t remember the day perfectly. I had snapshots of deciding to bake him cookies and deciding to surprise him by baking those cookies at his apartment. I remember being excited because I knew how happy he’d be. I knew that this gesture would tell him the words that I was still too afraid to say.</p>
<p>The rest of the time up until that moment is just made up of filled in guesses. I must have gone to the grocery store to get ingredients. It makes sense that I would have had to look around his kitchen to find the baking pans I needed.</p>
<p>I’m not sure what decision lead me to open the cabinet above the sink. I don’t know what I was groping around blindly for. </p>
<p>I just remembered how the syringes felt against my fingertips; how smooth the glass of the vials was.</p>
<p>Whenever things had been hard over the past year, I would often go back to that moment. <em>I should have left then. </em>I'd repeat that to myself over and over again, but even though the pain I feel now is indescribable, I can't bring myself to regret the decision I made to stay.</p>
<p>For what felt like a very long time, those painful memories seemed like a fair trade for all the wonderful moments I had with Spencer Reid.</p>
<p>Eventually, those painful memories began to outnumber the good ones.</p>
<p>Spencer denying he had a problem. When he stopped taking off his shirt in front of me. When he was erratic and <em>so </em>angry, but only until he went into the bathroom and shut himself away. When he returned his eyes were glassy and his belt was missing.</p>
<p>That’s when I figured out he didn’t keep them in the kitchen anymore.</p>
<p>I even told myself it didn’t matter the first time he called me “Maeve” while he was inside of me.</p>
<p>I told myself it wasn’t a big deal when it happened a second time.</p>
<p>Then a third.</p>
<p>None of those moments mattered because of how <em>good </em>the others were. Spencer playing with my hair while we laid in bed together. When he whispered translations for the foreign films we saw in my ear. When he wrapped his arms around me and told me I was his dream. I was his everything.</p>
<p>Except I wasn’t, not really.</p>
<p>The man I loved was a genius, so he must have known he couldn’t hide it from me forever. Maybe that’s why he didn't look surprised to find me sitting on the couch when he opened the door. His eyes just roamed over the bags packed at my feet, my coat lying over my lap.</p>
<p>“I can’t do this,” I rasped. “I can’t watch you destroy yourself like this.”</p>
<p>He shoved his hands into his pants pockets, giving me a sharp nod.</p>
<p>It took everything I had not to reach for him when I got to my feet. “I need you to choose.”</p>
<p>Spencer knew what choice I was asking him to make.</p>
<p>The last snapshot I will ever have of him is the moment I realized he already made it. Spencer had picked his addiction over me long ago, and I was just too blind to see it.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he whispered, watching me shrug on my coat and pick up my bags.</p>
<p>I gave him a watery chuckle. “No, you’re not.”</p>
<p>I don’t remember if I looked at him again. I don’t remember if he said anything else to me.</p>
<p>All I have now is that final memory, that final snapshot.</p>
<p>That’s not the snapshot that floats through my mind as I load my bags into my car, tears spilling down my cheeks.</p>
<p>I remember that first day. I remember how his tie was crooked and how he blushed when I spoke to him.</p>
<p>I remember the first time he kissed me; I remember how his hands cradled my face.</p>
<p>I remember the moment I knew. I remember pulling his supplies out of that cabinet, and my first thought being, "<em>why would he reuse the needles? That’s not safe.</em>”</p>
<p>I remember when he came home, wrapping his arms around me.</p>
<p>I remember how it felt to kiss him then when that secret was still crawling over my skin. I remember not knowing how to tell him.</p>
<p>
  <em>I should have left then. </em>
</p>
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